There's Only So Much Hurt a Man Can Take
by Temptress-Kitten17
Summary: Damon is NOT in a good mood, and Elena keeps pushing him. WARNING: LOTS OF PROFANITY AND BLOOD PLAY. Set after "The Descent" and before "Daddy Issues".


**Author's Note: **Okay, I'm warning you all now that when I wrote this last night I was in a very *weird* mood, and "DLZ"/Damon's existential crisis scene from "The Descent" both kept playing on a loop in my head. It WAS going to be smutty, but then...that's the thing about this restless mood I'm in this week; I didn't feel like going in that direction. I took literary license with the timeline, so this is set after Rose's death but before Andie. I might continue this, or even turn it smutty, but I'm not sure yet. Like I said, I'm in a weird mood. This is rated M mainly b/c I used the word "fuck" a lot, and that didn't seem appropriate for a Teen rating.

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**There's Only So Much Hurt a Man Can Take**

The pounding on the door is only a little more irritating to him right now than the pounding in his skull. Tossing back another glass full his best bourbon, he tries to ignore it but unfortunately the person on the other side of the door doesn't seem to want to go away anytime soon. More knocking; they obviously don't seem to get that he's not in the mood for company tonight.

"I heard you the first twenty times," he growls, cursing out a few choice expletives as he stalks his way to the front door like a big, angry cat who's sleep has been disturbed. He unceremoniously flings it open, about to tell whoever it is out there to go to Hell when he's suddenly face to face with those big brown doe-eyes and pouty lips; Elena.

"If you're looking for my baby brother, he's not here," he informs her. His tone is harsh and uncaring, but he doesn't care; the last thing he needs right now is to be around _her_.

Elena brushes a strand of hair nervously away from her face. "Actually, I came to see _you_," she admits.

"I don't feel like entertaining today," he snaps. It's not enough that she chose his brother and has to flaunt that in front of him all the time, but now she insists on rubbing salt into the wound by _caring_ about him? Without even bothering for him to invite her in, she walks past him and glances over to the mess of empty bottles scattered all over the room.

"You've been drinking," she comments, sounding almost disappointed in him.

"You noticed." He ignores her stare, pouring himself another drink; he tosses it back, then pours some more.

"And you're upset," she frowns.

"Again, stating the obvious."

"Damon…" she starts to say, but he cuts her off.

"Is there a reason for your visit?" he asks irritably.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I told you last night I was fine," he snaps at her. There's not enough alcohol in the world right now to numb everything he's feeling. She needs to leave; _now._

"You don't look fine," she replies, her brown eyes filled with concern; it's more than he can take right now. He doesn't want her pity!

"A few more of these and I will be," he smirks, holding up the half-empty bottle. "So unless you want to watch me consume my weight in alcohol, I suggest you leave now."

"Damon," she sighs softly, pleading him with her eyes. "Please don't shut me out. Tell me what's wrong."

"You want to know what's _wrong_, Elena?" Damon growls in frustration. She just can't fucking leave it alone, can she? Well if she's going to keep pushing him, he might as well spell it out for her.

"What's _wrong_ is that I care!" He's shouting at her right now, but he doesn't care. She needs to realize just what the hell she's been doing to him, so that she'll _stop fucking with him_. "You made me fucking _care_ what happens to you, and for what? So you can tell me that it's _never_ going to be enough for you; that it's always going to be Stefan! Why are you even _here_?"

She's at a loss for words, because deep down she knows he's right; what is the fucking point of wanting him to _feel_ something when she doesn't even want him?

"Go home, Elena," he says bitterly. He turns away from her, so she can't see the pain in his expression. He waits for the sound of her retreating footsteps, but the air is silent except for the pounding of her heart and the sound of her breathing.

"No. I'm not leaving you alone like this." Her chin is tilted up in defiance, eyes glaring in that stubborn way that tells him she's going to fight him no matter what he says. But tonight is just _not_ a good night for her to be crossing swords with him. He's tired, frustrated, and for once he just wants her to let him deal with that frustration at the bottom of another bottle of bourbon.

"_Go HOME,_" he growls in warning again.

"_NO_!" Elena repeats, as if she actually has a fucking say in the matter.

He tries again, feeling every emotion bubbling to the surface; he's at his boiling point and she has no idea just how thin a line she's treading at that moment. "Elena," he growls menacingly, eyes narrowing on hers. "Get out before I _throw_ you out."

She doesn't listen; doesn't even make the slightest movement to walk away. "Damon, I care…"

His control snaps, and it's too late for her to run now. He has her pinned to the wall in a flash of movement, and she can only let out a muffled cry of surprise when his lips touch hers. It's an aggressive kiss, full of anger, frustration and sprinkled with raw passion. His hands have her wrists pinned above her head in an almost bruising grip, and her back is throbbing painfully from being slammed so hard against the wood paneling; but still it's the most thrilling kiss she's ever experienced in her young life. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and she moans into his mouth as an unmistakable hardness presses into the apex of her thighs. He grinds against her, the material of their jeans causing a delicious friction that sends her pulse skyrocketing. Damon can feel the blood rushing through her veins; it calls to him and his gums are aching, teeth throbbing. He can already taste it on his tongue and it's driving him mad; he can't control it. Before he fully realizes what he's doing, he's pulling his lips away from hers and sinking his teeth into her neck. She cries out; but whether it's with pleasure or pain he can't tell the difference. All he can think of is how sweet she tastes, and how her heart keeps beating faster, pushing more of that sweet nectar into his mouth.

"Damon," she whimpers, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Fuck.

He comes back to himself, and it's like a bucket of ice water pouring over him when he realizes what he's just done. She shouldn't have come here.

He quickly releases her, horrified when she nearly slumps to the floor, too weak to even support her own weight. His wrist stings for only a short moment as he bites into it, pushing the wound against her lips and forcing her to drink. It feels like an eternity, but slowly the color returns to her skin and the grip on his arm becomes stronger. When he's certain she's had enough, he pulls away from her; disgusted with himself. He could have _killed_ her! He looks down at the already-healing bite mark on her neck, and feels like tearing into something; possibly even _someone_. He _hurt_ her, and yet she hasn't run away from him. She's still on the floor, breathing heavily, eyes wide, but not afraid; and he _needs_ her to be afraid right now. He needs her to run.

It's then that he notices she's not wearing her necklace. How incredibly _stupid_ of her; but he'll take any advantage he can get. He looks directly into those dark eyes, and concentrates hard on what it is he wants her to remember. She came by the boarding house, nobody was home, she left. This never happened. When she repeats the words, he knows it's worked, and moments later she gets up off the floor in a haze of confusion and leaves. The door shuts behind her, and Damon stalks back into the parlor to pour himself another drink. This can't keep happening; he doesn't know how much longer he can take all of the hurt/anger/frustration/need he feels for her. It's clouding his judgment, and he can't allow that to happen right now; not when he's the only one strong enough to actually keep her safe from Elijah, Klaus, and any other evil bastard who might show up to threaten her life. Now is just _not_ a good time for them, and he knows it; it's why he told her he loved her and then compelled her to forget in the first place. But she keeps trying to get further under his skin, even though he's tried so hard to push her away. She's given him no other choice but to take more drastic measures. He needs a distraction; an easy fuck and a steady meal, so that _she_ can't tempt him into taking her again. Otherwise he might just turn her to keep her with him; whether she wants it or not.


End file.
